An Ode to King C

This is an ode to King C

and I've been stumbling over writing it

for weeks.

See whenever I put pen to paper, it is 

like my heart starts pacing and she keeps

walking to and from the door almost like

she's expecting you to knock.

I think she knows and will never forget

how she runs to that door when she knows you are there,

I suppose she has evolved into bad habits now and she just

does not rest.

I tell her all the time that things are-

different

and all she says is that she's older now and that

she is longing, pining for you to hold her like a baby.

I always find her waiting for you by the door and it is like she feels

you should have a key and

she laughs because she is pretty sure you already have a key-

she has this belief, an obsession

that love is eternal.

I have been sitting with her

every night

for the last few months

and she is so hot 

even when you are not there

and like every time she says;

it does not matter how many times you tell me to "chill"

she did it the first time you said

and nowadays it is mid-summer and she is wondering why my skin is blue

and I am dithering with hyperthermia. 

And she is so frail

she recalls being told it is not what you put in, 

it is what you leave out

but every time you leave out

she says she feels smaller.

She does not know what to do anymore

because it is a world where love is not enough and she gets

demoted. 

I ask her what to write and she tells me to tell you, 

"I love you".

But I can not when you 

do not want to hear it.